Decisions in life need to be taken very seriously. Too bad we don’t remember that when we are making some. I was in a very bad place when I decided to marry my husband. My mom had recently been diagnosed with cancer for the second time in 6 years. I was numb, knowing I was going to lose her. She was and is, in spirit, everything to me. We were very close, as was every single person she ever came in contact with. That’s just the way she was. Warm, caring, intelligent, interesting, sweet and affectionate. I was also still pining for the love of my life, my soul mate from twelve until nineteen. When we broke up, I stayed single for two years. I couldn’t deal with being with anyone else. Then, I went out with someone for five years, but it was just fluff, and something to do, unfortunately. Another poor decision. Then, I took a couple of years off to “get back” at the world. Definitely not a good decision.
I was nasty, I drank as much as I could, experimented with other drugs, and dreaded my very existence. I had no idea why I was taking up space on this Earth. My faith had diminished between my break up and my mom’s illness, and I was wavering. I had a job, my own apartment, where, of course, I was alone, and a few friends who enjoyed the same partying techniques I did. I was rolling down a hill, and had no idea how to climb back up. Nor did I have the desire to.
I had always wanted to marry my sweetheart and have a home and kids, but we were too immature at nineteen to even be able to have a steady relationship, nonetheless get married and have kids. We broke up over a “decision” of mine, to give him an ultimatum one night. He had been going out with his friends and brothers more and more, and the night he called to say he was going out with his brother, I told him if he didn’t come to see me, he could keep going. Bad “decision.” Downhill spiral from there on out. I was madly in love with this boy, some would say obsessed. Many did. But I knew how my soul was touched by the young boy I knew to be sweet and caring, funny and strong, passionate and handsome. He was who I wanted to be with every minute of the day, and forever. When that didn’t pan out, part of me honestly died.
I was working in a post office, an acquaintance came in, I knew I was going to marry him, and six months later, we were married. I wanted to have a home, and kids and pets. Some say we choose which parents we are born to. If that’s the case, my decision to marry him was the best one I ever made. However, now, twenty three years of Hell later, I have a hard time saying so. Aside from him helping me bring these three beautiful, intelligent, caring children into this world, he was good for nothing else but to pay the bills. That may sound harsh, but in this case, it was true.
Six months definitely was not enough time to get to know this person. But at twenty seven, I was anxious to get on with the family life I had always dreamed of. I believed that we shared the same values to raise kids by, I was wrong.
Very, very wrong. It was a constant battle between my belief system, and his lack of one. He was a merchant seaman, home two weeks and gone two weeks. It was great when he was gone, and I could raise my kid with honesty and respect, and responsibilities. When he came home, it was just the opposite. They gravitated to his leniency in what they should and shouldn’t do. He’d clean up and pick up after them, take them to the park, and encourage them to do dangerous stunts on their skateboards, knocking one of my son’s front permanent teeth out.
It was a very hard existence until my two eldest kids got old enough to start going over other people’s homes, and saw that it had been indeed, mom that was the sane one, the one trying to do all the right things, and dad the one who just wanted to have fun, and do as little as possible on his “time off.” By that time, I was stripped of all my goals, desires, hopes, dreams, and plans.
I was diagnosed with Crohn’s, and I will always believe it was a result of years of stress. I was in bed for most of the next two years. I managed to take care of my kids when I was alone, and lost them to their father during that time, as I wasn’t available to counteract his thoughts and actions he readily shared with his kids. Along with movies that were not appropriate for their ages. Depression set in at it’s deepest core, and I just wanted to sleep my life away. Eventually, I decided I wanted to take back my life and start to live again, and get my kids back from their father. This took a lot of yogurt, baby food, ensure, and whatever I could keep down. I slowly got stronger, and continued until I feel like I do today, drained, melancholy, but hopeful and not in that deep depression, and working on myself with a reflexologist who is the best. I’ve gained so much insight and wisdom and energy from going to a one hour session a week.
I’ve gotten all but my youngest child back, at sixteen, he doesn’t want to face his father’s inability to be a decent father, since he was always such a good friend!
But I’m making progress, and the older he gets, the more he’ll realize. I had been separated for 17 years, letting my kids’ father stay here in his own room for the time he was home. I knew my kids loved their father, and as long as I could monitor them, I went for it. Now, he’s gone, and will never come back, after twenty years in this house! Good decision!
So, even though I still feel we should take our decisions very seriously, I know that I wouldn’t have my kids if not for their father. However, I can say, if not for my kids, marrying that man was the second worst decision of my life.
The first was giving an ultimatum to the one whom my soul loves.
However, after twenty three years apart, we reunited almost nine years ago, and we are happier than ever. He is good for and to my kids. He supports me, and helps me, and is everything I would want in a husband. He always was.